Denied Mercy
by Amitsukirei
Summary: Steven is your average troubled kid... Until he collapses, and ends up in the Beachside hospital! There, he meet Dr. Clavering, and suddenly wants more for his life.... Maybe even love? OCXOC Yaoi, T to be safe
1. True Friends

"You'll be there, right, Steven?" Such a painful inquiry, hurtful enough for him to completely freeze up for a moment. Just four words and his chest seized up in silent agony, a pain he had never shared with anyone, and one he planned to keep to himself. Keep cool, keep cool, he thought while his fists were tightened shut, showing no sign of releasing soon. He forced them open and relaxed, like a clam's shell, and his pearl of sweat disappeared swiftly. He looked towards the expecting voice with the finest smile, one that even revealed his mostly straight teeth. Then, as natural as he could, he dipped his head in agreement, "Of course! I'd never miss out on a game! Anyway, it was great practice, today. Great game- I'll see you later!" He was glad his reply was normal enough for the friend to walk off, satisfied. You'll be there, right?

"Err, maaaan, what am I doing? Thinking of the stupid stuff like that," Steven rubbed the sweat off his forehead using his short sleeve, "and when mom gets home about now..." Tossing his empty can of beer, he sauntered from the desolate public park just as it made a _thunk! _in the trash can.

The last thing he wanted was his sensitive ears busting like they always did with his mother's useless yelling. Besides, his chest was already sore from a very hard tackle he blocked during last week's football game. When he reached the house, two blocks away, he was pressing his hand against his chest as he opened the front door, unlocked as usual. Am I out of shape or something, he considered while huffing and puffing, I mean- _dang_- it wasn't so hard before. Steven trudged forward rather sluggishly; he was practically blue as he reached his room and crashed on the bed.

"Steven? Is that you?" A shadow grew as a figure stepped through the nearby hallway, his mother, "Why are you here so late? I said your curfew was at eleven. It's already three in the morning! Were you hanging out with a gang...!? Steven, answer me!" Her claims grew louder with her voice as she slowly appeared in the doorway, accusing eyes harsher than sharpened daggers. On the bed, Steven sighed quietly, knowing the rant would go on. Of course, it did, "What are you going to do with your life!? You're two years out of high school... And LOOK at you! You haven't even tried the slightest to do something productive, have you!?!" Fair enough, he listened to her argument silently, no expression on his face. "Answer me Steven!! What have you been doing out so late!?! Are you in some gang?! You'd better not be taking drugs!" Poisonous words, words engulfed by annoyance and fatigue. How easily they caused his body to swell with ugly feelings, how effortlessly they got a response from him.

"I'm not a damn druggie, mom!!!" He growled, sitting up on the bed despite his pain, "I was hanging out with Rick and the boys at the park!"

"Don't even get me started on those boys!" She thrust forward a long accusing finger, the one that only made him see red even worse, "Mary-ann says she always sees them behind the diner, snorting away! Sometimes, she says she even sees you! Do you want me to look like a fool in front of my boss!? Don't lie to me, Steven! I'm _sick_ of your lies!"

"I'm sick of Mary-ann! I'm sick of _your_ lies! And, frankly, I'm SICK of you!" He leapt from his bed, slamming his door shut in her face, "Get out of my face if you hate me so much! I didn't ask for dad and you to split but, now that I think about it, I don't blame him! He was _sick_ of you, too!!!" He won the battle. He realized that when he heard a soft cry and fading footsteps beyond the closed door. "Are you happy now?" He whispered, mixed emotions bubbling inside, "Do you want me to make you cry...?" It was a bittersweet victory, though; the cost of winning was taking its toll. Dropping on his bed once more, Steven gazed up at the ceiling- he was tired of it all.

Luckily, the next morning came quickly as Steven had fallen asleep quite easily. Even better, his mom worked from six in the morning to eight at night, and that meant he'd be able to relax. Steven scratched his throat as he casually strolled into the kitchen, and opened the fridge. Then, he had to hold onto the counterpart, feeling so light-headed to a point where he felt he could vomit. Geez, he winced, did I eat something weird last night? Somehow regaining balance, Steven fixed an overstuffed bowl of cereal and carefully set it on the dining table. How was it every single motion and his entire body ached- every motion little too fast and he felt sick to his stomach? He grimaced, "What the hell did I do last night, again?" However, he ignored the many signs, and got dressed to go meet the boys at the basketball court near the beach.

"Hey hey, what's up, my man?" greeted Rick as soon as Steven came into view on the asphalt court.

"I'm alright," Steven shrugged, fighting back a strange tiredness, "I'm a little sore, but I'll manage." He was already out of breath from the walk there.

"You don't so well, dude," Rick commented, wrapping an arm around Steven's shoulder, "Are you sure you want to play? I can always find a replacement."

"Wha- No," Steven forced energy upon himself, compelling his body to work harder, "I got this." Catching the ball as another player tossed it to him, Steven raced into the game, trying his best to overlook the pain and sick gut. Still, the farther he progressed in the game, the worse the two got, and he was blue in the face only three baskets later. Suddenly, he rushed to the edge, and his entire breakfast ended up on the grass, along with blood.

"Uh, Steven...?" Rick began to stride over gradually, extending his arm towards the friend. At that moment, Steven lost control of his body, and he collapsed against the pavement hard.

"W-What the hell, man!?!" One of the boys gawked, "I'm outta here- I didn't do nothing to him!" Along with him, the others rushed from the scene. Rick was frozen in his spot, not moving at all. Somehow, Steven managed to face him with a painful expression.

"Rick... help..." Everything was going black, but the last thing he did see was his so-called friend fleeing with the rest of them.


	2. Emergency

"Now, Mrs. Thompson, I recommend you take as much time off from work as you can. Your surgery was a complete success, but you need plenty of time to recover," commented the young doctor, keeping his jade eyes gentle but firm as he instructed the patient. When the woman nodded, in agreement, he turned towards the little girl nearby, and bent down with a soft smile, "And it is up to you to make sure your dear mum gets lots of rest. Can you do that for me, Emily?"

"Yes sir," grinned the young girl, Emily, before she rushed over and hugged her mother cheerfully. Satisfied with the success and blissful aura, he stood up to leave, he still had many other he wanted to check up on.

"Um, Dr. Clavering?" came Mrs. Smith's voice as he reached the door. He glanced back for a moment, and Mrs. Smith continued, "Thank-you very much. I don't know what we would have done without you." It was truly a warm comforting feeling that built up inside him; Dr. Clavering shined a bright smile before exiting the room. He absolutely loved the days where patients went home content and healthy. Arms swaying at his sides, he walked towards the elevator to head up the second floor. Suddenly, he found himself nearly frozen in place.

"Please clear the way!" hollered a paramedic, darting alongside a gurney with four others. Snapping back into place, Dr. Clavering dashed over to the gurney in a hurry, and placed a hand on the railing, almost finding it hard to keep up.

"What's the status?! Who is this!?" His voice rose on its own, his eyes falling on the pale face of a young man, a teenager who was fading in and out of consciousness.

"Steven Jacobs! He's twenty years old- he collapsed at the Beachside Baskets! He came to slowly, but seconds later he was out again, and he's been doing it ever since!" The paramedic informed to his best ability, but he was still unsure about the diagnosis. "Blood pressure is low, pulse rate is low, respiratory rate is low, and temperature is elevated! He has a very low flow of oxygen!" The hallways seemed to grow so short, and the group swiftly arrived in a vacant room.

"Damn it...! Steven, can you hear me?" Dr. Clavering caught the boy's eyes in his, trying to keep him focused and conscious, "Can you tell me if anything hurts? I need you to stay awake for just a little bit longer Steven! Does anything hurt?" The brown eyes only seemed to reflect the doctor's image, completely lacking vibrancy. Dr. Clavering was beginning to worry it was already too late. In a split instant, though, it seemed that Steven's left arm fell upon his small chest, but his eyes kept on Dr. Clavering with their eerie emptiness.

"We're going to start pushing to help with the airflow, doctor; he'll be out again, soon!" A different paramedic yelled, working alongside another to fix an IV into place.

"Alright, I'll hurry and get ready," Clavering dipped his head in agreement, and he was just about to rush off to get gloves and a mask when he was caught.

"_Don't... let... me... die_..." A weak voice drifted among the tense atmosphere, and by some means it found itself settling in the doctor's ears, "_Don't... leave.. me... ple..._" But the voice faded fast, Steven Jacobs falling unconscious once again while Dr. Clavering held a hand over his mouth, touched, time almost seeming to freeze as the boy's eyes shut gradually. How warm and pleased he felt earlier, after checking up on Mrs. Thompson. At the moment, he felt as if it was someone he honestly knew his entire life on the table, and he felt an overpowering urge to protect them- to protect him- to protect Steven Jacobs.


	3. The Weird Doctor

"_Mom... I'm here," Steven announced upon entering a strange house, one that seemed distantly familiar. At the doorway, he politely removed his shoes and hung his coat on the door. He grinned, "Can you believe the weather? Hideous! I didn't think it was possible for clouds to hold this much!" A light and warm atmosphere began to form, and only continued when his mother appeared in the kitchen archway, rushing to the table with a large pot cradled in her hands._

"_I don't believe it either!" She laughed, "Hurry up and sit down, I made my best to celebrate... I can't believe it... My son, graduating with a bachelor's degree! I'm so pr-" FEEEEE!!! A teapot in the kitchen screamed, and his mother darted for it like the sky was falling if she didn't reach it fast enough. Moments later, she returned with two steaming cups of tea, "What I meant to say, when I was so rudely interrupted... I'm so proud, Steven. Now, take a seat. Your father will be here a few minutes later... He's just as excited!"_

"_Honeeeeyy, I'm hooomeeee!" called a voice from the foyer, and, sure enough, the broad-chinned man with dark healthy brown hair entered the living room with a smile, "I made sure to get off early! After all, it's not every day your only son gets a bachelor's degree!"_

"_I guess not," Steven modestly smiled, "But, you know what? I think I might go for a master's degree next. What do you two think?"_

"_We're thrilled!!!" The parents exclaimed in unison, and they all began laughing. So warm, so jubilant..._

"Are you sure it's not drugs!?" Suddenly, Steven awoke in a white room, completely surrounded with nothing but clean white furniture. Everything in an instant felt cold, and he started having trouble remembering the dream he just had. The rough tired voice came again, from beyond a door, nearby, "You don't have to lie to me, doctor; I don't need your sympathy! I've raised that boy my whole life, and I know him by heart! It was _drugs_ wasn't it!?" A familiar pain came to his chest, and Steven felt his throat dry up while his palms grew wet. He knew that voice; he knew it all too well. Hand on the wall, he made it all the way to the door with his weak body, and stopped. Wait, his conscious told him, it could be another patient. He didn't have to see who was yelling. It didn't have to be his mom...

"Mrs. Jacobs, _he's completely clean_!!!" Another voice fought back, a voice that was somewhat familiar, like a dream... I don't, he scowled silently, need another person defend me! Turning the handle with a trembling fist, he swallowed everything but his pride, and stormed into the hallway.

"_I told you I'm not a damn druggie!_" He hissed, raging blood rushing through his veins like a stampede, "Why do you ALWAYS assume I'm such a bad kid!?!" So strong he felt about himself, so resolute to prove he wasn't her image of him. Then, however, a weird light-headedness came back, and Steven wobbled helplessly, stumbling around and two firm hands caught his shoulders, and held him in place. A little surprised, as he was sure he would've hit the ground by then, Steven slowly faced the support, and found a pair of emeralds gazing back at him.

"Mrs. Jacobs," The defending voice calmly continued, "if you keep stressing my patient out, I will be forced to have you escorted to the waiting room. Steven has just undergone surgery, and as his doctor, I want him to get as much rest and relaxation as possible." The gem eyes only left Steven once, to give his mother a stern stare, but swiftly returned. The gentle light in them never changed at all, "Steven, I'd like to inform you about everything, and do a quick check-up. Can you follow me back into your room please?"

"Uhhh..." Steven just stared at him blankly for a second, but then quickly nodded, "Yeah, sure thing." Quiet and obedient, without a thought otherwise, he returned to the bed he was just at and sat on the edge. Shortly after him, the doctor trailed after, closing the door behind him delicately.

"Well..." The doctor sighed, "That was a little... exciting. But, I digress, it's not my business, is it? I'll start by introducing myself. My name is Dr. Clavering, and I'm pleased to meet you, Steven." Equipping the stethoscope, he slid a hand up Steven's shirt, and pressed the cold metal in different areas carefully before checking Steven's back. "Steven, can you tell me if anything hurts?"

"My... uh..." Steven resisted the urge to shiver from the eerie chill, "My chest kinda hurts... and my stomach..."

"That makes sense," nodded Dr. Clavering as he removed the stethoscope. "After all," he said while folding his arms, "You had a fair case of pneumothorax. Simply said, you had a collapsed lung. What makes me curious, is what did you get hit by that was hard enough to do this? A semi-truck? Did you get hurt lately? If so, then how? If nothing, then..." Taking out a clipboard and pen, Dr. Clavering pulled over a chair, and sat down, keeping his eyes on Steven.

"A semi?" Steven made a face of confusion, "Well, I don't know. I don't remember anything that would've... Wait. I think there is something. Last week, I played foot-ball with some guys. I guess... I guess I was tackled pretty hard, last quarter. You see, the offense was..." Dr. Clavering just listened carefully, letting Steven wander a little off topic as he explained the whole line-up of the local team. The young man fell quiet after awhile, though, "Sorry, I didn't mean to go on like that. Bad habit- I love sports."

"It's fine, I love learning about my patients," Dr. Clavering set down the clipboard and pen. Changing into a more comfortable position in the chair, he went on, "But I admit I must tell you more about yesterday..."

"Yesterday? I was out a whole day?"

"Yes," The doctor nodded, "You see, Steven, when air cannot reach the different parts of the body fast enough, everything doesn't work like it should, and you can fall unconscious, or worse. With your collapsed lung, you were getting air, but just not enough. What I'm not too happy about, is that I'm quite certain you were feeling different when you collapsed. _Before_ you decided to play basketball." Folding his arms, Dr. Clavering took on a less pleased look, "Steven, how long did you experience symptoms such as light-headedness and difficulty breathing?"

"Uh... Heh heh..." Steven scratched his cheek, avoiding the doctor's stare which seemed to have grown more intense. Also, the teenager felt like a guilty young child; he began feeling weird ever since the football game. His face flustered, "I-I suppose there were times... when... it seemed... weird..." His voice grew smaller and smaller as he proceeded. When the doctor sighed like before, a fire ignited in Steven's confidence. Another person disappointed in him? There were already too many to count! "You don't understand!" He rose to his feet sharply, despite the pain, "Like hell I'd go to my mom and tell her I feel sick! You saw her... She's got a one-track mind! 'You're on drugs, aren't you!?' She'll yell at me! What's the point of her yelling even more when she's already scolded me for nothing!?! She's already on my tail for every little thing, why would I want to get even _worse_! Why would I-" He suddenly got an unyielding hand on his face.

"Steven," Dr. Clavering began, "you don't have to defend yourself. I don't blame you for any of your actions. Everyone must do what they must do." His hand released moments later, and he continued, "It's just that... It would've been nicer to catch it earlier. Then I wouldn't have had to open you up and install a catheter," he shrugged like it was nothing.

"W-W-What?"

"Your poor small chest couldn't take all that abuse you were giving it. There was a major fluid build-up, and then your lung collapsed. A catheter is a tube sort of tool inserted to help with the draining. It's a shame, because I hate operating on someone when I wouldn't have had to. Just think of it like this. Yesterday, my hands were actually inside you, and now I'm talking to you today. I'm still not used it," Dr. Clavering crossed his arms yet again, but then held on of them up to his chin.

"That..." Steven's eyes were wide. That, he said to himself, sounded so wrong. If anything, he was still fairly young, and his mind was still caught in the gutter. Feeling disgusted, he sat back down on the bed, "I've got a... tube in me... sucking crap..."

"No worries," The doctor waved a hand, "It's only temporary. Shortly, I'll be sending you to the lobby to get a nice little note telling you to come back a few weeks later. Then, I can get that tube 'sucking crap' out of you." Heading towards the door, Dr. Clavering stopped, and looked back, " Which means, you can go home now. No more getting tackled by semi-truck boys, though, alright? Honestly, what are they feeding kids these days..." He chuckled, leaving the room with an atmosphere Steven found slightly comfortable.

"What a..." Steven rubbed his head, a small smile forming on his lips, "What a _weird_ doctor."


	4. Umbrella

"I don't wanna hear it!" _WHAM!_ Steven slammed the front door shut after him, a heavy-duty glower stuck on his face. Stomping his way to the kitchen, he set down a convenience store bag, bulging with different sodas, and random snacks. Honestly, he sat down in the dining room, kicking his legs up onto the table; does that idiot think I wouldn't be mad? Irritated, he popped open one can and took a big gulp. "Damn, Rick, really," He shouted, "Why don't you apologize to that ninety year old lady who had to run like hell for help when I collapsed? Friends since first grade- _bah_!- who needs 'um?"

"I'm really sorryyyyy..." whimpered the blonde, his voice only striking Steven as annoying and irritating. "... Oh, dang... Rain...? Steven, it's raining!"

"Catch a cold, and I'll accept your apology," He muttered, having no intention of letting Rick in anytime soon. From beyond the door came a sigh, and then some fading footsteps that disappeared within seconds. Steven set down the can, and folded his arms. Rick did deserve it, after all, right?

Rubbing his neck, he used his other arm to lift his shirt, an unusual urge to see the wound had been coming back to Steven every now and then. However, after seeing the string used to suture the surgical opening, he quickly dropped his shirt, not exactly thrilled by the thought of the whole thing. And it'll be opened again; he swallowed, forcing saliva into his dry throat. His eyes then drifted to a crappy calendar hanging nearby, one his mom used to mark bill due dates and such. Suddenly, he was caught off guard...

"Steven, why was Rick here...?" His mother entered through the front door, the one Rick had just been whining at. Immediately, Steven removed his legs from the table, grabbed a coaster from the center of the table, and set his soda on it without a heartbeat. "What were you two doin..." When her voice grew quiet, he slowly stood up, and began inching towards his bedroom. "How did you get this soda? How did you get the _money_ for this stuff? Did you take from my stash, Steven?" His eyes grew harsh in seconds, a transition that pained him so much more than the surgery he had undergone.

"Mom, I've been meaning to tell you..." He rubbed his neck, "I turned in some of my old clothes to the thrift store, and earned some extra cash... It's not much, but..." The dream he had in the hospital came to mind, out of the blue, and he was losing the ability to speak any more, fast.

"Old clothes? Steven, we can't afford any new clothes! What will happen if you grow!?" His mother gawked, "Money for... For snacks!? You couldn't have gotten new clothes, or shoes, or even actual groceries!? _What_ were you thinking!?" The dream... The dream... _We're so thrilled..._ The words echoed in his mind, torturing him more than his mother's random lecture. Why aren't... He clasped his hands together, Why couldn't we be like that...? "Do you know how hard it is to pay for things these days? Everything is so expensive, now! I'm only the only one working in this family...!"

"I..." He unconsciously spoke aloud, and started towards the door, "I wish grandpa was here..." Unpredictable as always, his mother was silenced just as he shut the door, snuggly fitting in its archway.

Steven completely zoned out, walking aimlessly, even riding the bus who knows where. All he knew was that he wanted to get away, even if it was just for a little while because then he could... He sat down on the ground, and leaned against a fence, eyes stuck on the ground in front of him. You'll be there, right? He tormented himself with the phrase, repeating it again and again in his head until his tear ducts began to swell with tears. It didn't matter if he cried here, he believed, because he knew no one who lived around... no one... Suddenly, it stopped raining. Too suddenly. Lifting his head from his knees, he glanced to his left and right only to see rain still falling around him. Why would...? But then his eyes caught sight of black dress shoes, and he hesitated to look up towards the kind stranger.

"I won't bother asking what you're doing here," a too familiar voice commented, "but when you're going to have surgery in five days, it's generally better to not suffer from pneumonia... _Or_ the devious common cold."

"..." Steven said nothing, surprised, knowing the voice all too well. Little by little he raised his head, streaked with tears and rain drops, and as soon as he reached the stranger's face, he was entranced by a pair of glimmering emeralds.

"As your doctor, I strongly recommend against it," Dr. Clavering smiled, and extended an inviting hand his way. Once again, Steven didn't speak, not wanting to, or rather, not knowing what to say, at any rate. Holding the umbrella between them, the doctor tolerated his exposed side to get wet, "Would you like to get out of the rain?" he asked softly, "You can come to my house."

"... Yes sir... Thank-you, sir..." Steven held one of his arms, a little embarrassed, too embarrassed to reject the offer. As they began walking, Steven decided to say what he had to, "I wasn't crying."

"Crying isn't a bad thing. It was... What's the word...? Ah, cute. It was cute," Dr. Clavering replied, cheerful as always.

"C-Cute? Do you normally go around calling things 'cute,' doc?" Steven barked, a strange comfort making him revert to his old ways, "And I wasn't crying. Got it? It's really rain... it's just rain on my face, ok?"

"Whatever you believe, I'll believe, Mr. Jacobs," Dr. Clavering chuckled, and began up the steps of a rather cozy looking house, a rather homely place with a black roof and brown masonry. Fiddling a key into the front door, he unlocked it, opened it, and paused. "Are you coming?" He inquired, looking back at Steven who was still lingering on the steps, "You don't have to, but you should hurry home, if you decide to go. I really wish you would get out of this rain; A runny nose is a breeding ground for bacteria." While he began shutting the black umbrella, Steven climbed the last step. Back to mom, He had compared silently, or to this guy. It didn't take long for him to pass through the door. Instantly, it seemed to temperature rose _at least _ten degrees.

"T-Toasty," He remarked quietly.

"I love keeping the temperature fairly warm because," Dr. Clavering followed after, shutting the door and setting down the umbrella, "I feel it's easier to sleep when it's warm... Well, not in the summer.. Er, anyway. Have a seat on the couch, it doesn't matter if you're wet. I'll go fetch a towel or two, and then fix some tea..."

"Ok..."

Why did he feel so timid and reserved around the doctor? He only remembered being that way back when he was in grade school, and that's because he was a rather shy child when he was younger. Then again, he did grow hot-headed after awhile for self-defense, and from always being stressed. Sitting down on the couch, he rubbed his hands against each other rapidly, trying to warm his fingers which were experiencing a nearly numb sensation. It was a good thing Dr. Clavering returned shortly later because the warmth was so comfortable, Steven near the point of falling asleep.

"Here, you can dry off with this," He generously handed over a towel that was soft and plush to touch. Without much thought, Steven just set the towel on his head, gave it a good rub-down, and left it there.

"Can I vent to you without you telling the world?" He questioned, eyes floating around the humble room.

"A secret you say will never leave my lips, you can trust me, Steven."

"...When I was little... my grandfather was my favorite person in the world- I loved him more than anyone else on this planet. He took me out on his boat, and we'd go out onto the sea- just the two of us. I loved it so much. I loved getting away from mom and dad with their scolding and high expectations. Soon, though, I became a teenager and began fussing so much more. I was sick and tired of their hope. I wasn't the smartest, or the strongest, and, truthfully, I'm not the best looking. Not only that, but their marriage had only been fueled with false love, and it was beginning to spread too thin with the tight budget.

So they began fighting," Steven continued, his hurt expression hidden by the towel, "And it got worse every day. My mom kept exploding on every little thing. My dad was beginning not to care. They began ignoring me, giving up on me, I guess. Only my grandpa cared. I was going to give up on school if it wasn't for him... We made a deal, you see." He changed positions before going on, "He said 'if you make it through high school, I will be there at your graduation. Then, maybe you can come live with me.' Of course, I wanted to. I hadn't gone on his boat in awhile. Then, on the day of graduation, he never showed up.

Turns out, he had a heart attack while driving and just seized up. He crashed. He never came to my graduation, and I never went to live with him. He died. After that, my dad was full of grief, and couldn't take it anymore- he left one day, and sent divorce papers a week later. It's been two years now, but... I can't help but think he'll come back one day, and mom will be happy again. It's so stupid, I know... but..." Steven fought to keep a stone from forming in his throat.

"..." Dr. Clavering remained silent, but his grip on his towel increased, and he dropped it onto his lap. Finally, after several moments of silence, he forced words, but they came out as perfect and organized as always- words that had the best effect, "Have you ever watched Cinderella as a child? A dream is a wish your heart makes. You just have to keep working on it. No matter what anyone tells you- no matter how many times they say you'll never do it- you can. I did."

"Your dream...?" Steven leaned against the back of the couch.

"I love helping people," He smiled, laying his arms on the arm rests of his chair, "My family in England was fairly poor. We were just as stressed- and I have three siblings, so you can add up the mouths to feed. Still, I was always the smartest kid in class, and I began to stand out. So many kids hated me, because of it. They called me "teacher's pet" and other childish things. One day, I said my dream was to become a doctor so I can help people. Of course, they told me I'd fail before getting deep in. You know, I used to get in trouble all the time for letting people borrow my homework or cheat from me. I just felt that... If I'm so smart, why don't I use it for the greater good? I called those people who called me names friends. Now... nine years out of school, I have become what I've always wanted to be. Everyone at work jokes around since I've told them the story- they say 'all you need is a family' now."

"Nine years... Plus eighteen... "

"Plus sixteen," Dr. Clavering corrected, "I skipped two grades."

"How old are you?" Steven took the towel from his head, eyes wide and curious.

"I'm twenty-eight," The doctor held a hand over his mouth when he laughed gently. Steven stared at him for a few moments and got Dr. Clavering to go on, "It's strange, I know. I graduated school at sixteen, and then went straight into college on scholarship money. It would've taken longer to get a PhD but... Great work ethic and charisma goes a long way. Still, I'm not done with school. Medicine is always changing, and we always have workshops every so often to learn new techniques and practices."

"Man, you never stopped school... I can't say the same," Steven grinned sheepishly, "I'm two years out of high school, and haven't heard a thing of work in a while. Well, I mean, it's not like I haven't tried like my mom says... I've applied everywhere but... I'm just a 'C' average student. Not many places want me." Still, he already felt better as if someone lifted a huge sandbag off of him. Before Dr. Clavering could respond, Steven stood up, "I think the rain has stopped." To be honest, he wasn't aiming to leave quickly or anything, but he didn't want to stay longer than welcomed. Also, he had told enough of his secrets than he had intended to, and wanted to leave before spilling any more.

"Ah, I think you're right," Dr. Clavering also rose to his feet, and was no less than three inches taller than. "The tea should be done any second now- do you want a cup for the road? It'll be nice, I guarantee."

"I suppose I can return it to you when my catheter comes out, huh?" Steven laughed it off, nervous, but who liked surgery? "I'll be knocked out, right?"

"As gone as you'd like to be," Dr. Clavering's voice came from around a corner, probably from the kitchen. A few cupboard noises later, he returned with a coffee cup, steaming with fresh tea. "Don't worry, the surgery won't take long. Besides, your body is quite easy to work in."

"Uhhhh, right..." The teenager scratched his cheek, not sure what to say to that. Awwwkwarddd, he called silently, a little laugh hidden behind his straight face. "Thanks for the tea... and your time. Sorry about your couch..."

"It's no trouble, really," Dr. Clavering, opening the door for Steven, "come back anytime you want. If I'm here, I'm always willing to chat or hang around."

"Uh, sure thing, I guess," Steven shrugged, slipping through the door quietly, walking down the path to the small stair set.

"And... Steven?"

"Uh-huh?" He looked back only to receive a warm comforting smile, one that seemed so kind and gentle it could have been a dream. Steven wasn't used to such smile- not sent towards him, in any case.

"You're a good kid- don't let anyone tell you otherwise."


	5. Don't Worry

Today was the day, but Steven Jacobs was absolutely entirely _not_ very ready to embrace it with wide, warm, inviting arms like when relatives from far away came to town. Was it because he was going to be completely out for the whole thing? With chances of not waking up? Was it the fault he'd be reopened once more? Hearing that more surgeries shorten your life? Or was it because his grandfather took his last breaths in the same hospital? Would he depart this life and rejoin his grandfather wherever the old man went...?

"Oh man, I'm giving myself goose-bumps!" He shivered, and rapidly rubbed his hands on his arms, trying to stop the chilling feeling. Who is gonna operate on me, he wondered noiselessly- growing more nervous by the second. If there was one thing Steven was certain about, it was that the more he thought about it, the more goose-bumps developed on his arms and legs. So, the closer he grew to the hospital, on foot, he blocked the notions, trying to focus on something else, like where he last submitted a résumé, which, obviously, he had no idea.

After checking in at the lobby, Steven was quivering rather badly and barely managed to keep still in his seat. I hate this place, He repeated in his head again and again, twiddling with his hands and fingers, his mind completely yet secretly troubled. He tried to read a magazine, but dropped it fairly quickly, as it was all about surgeries and procedures he'd rather not know about. Today was the day. Today was the day Steven Jacobs got his catheter out, and he wasn't really happy about it.

"Ah, Steven!" He nearly flipped in his seat when a voice called out to him. As the figure came in sight, it turned out to be none other than Dr. Clavering, who was smiling peacefully as always. Steven struggled to his feet, feeling his legs were prepared to buckle at any random instance. Dr. Clavering didn't notice this at first, surprisingly enough, "I came as soon as they paged me. You got here fairly early, though, but, that's perfect time as I..." He fell quiet, however, as he wasn't that oblivious to the continuous stumbling. Although, he smiled again, but his lips were full of sympathy then, "Follow me." What was that word, again...? Ah, cute.

"O-Ok," Steven tagged after him like a mindless being, a robotic shell of some sort. Even if you say that, he believed quietly, I'm not convinced. Next, Steven and Dr. Clavering passed through a hallway or two as well before finally coming up a room, white and pure like the last time Steven was at the hospital. Conversely, this one was full of surgical equipment, and a table that reminded him of a morgue. Dr. Clavering walked in casually, clipboard in hand just as before, but Steven hung at the doorway gazing at the table. Then, he gulped, swallowed his fear- or at least one-hundredth of it- and sat on the edge.

"Alright, Steven," Dr. Clavering began, "I'll explain the procedures first, and then you'll have to change into a gown before we administer the sleeping gas." Standing nearby, Dr. Clavering began scanning over paperwork as he talked. "Today we'll be removing your catheter since your X-rays from the check-up a few days ago proved quite positive. Your lung has made a full recovery, by the way. In order to remove the catheter, we're going to reopen the surgical incision we made earlier because the tissue is the easiest access. First, the catheter must be..." But Steven was zoning out fast. Fluid? Tissue? DRAINAGE? Oh, how close he was to throwing up his breakfast. Moments later, Dr Clavering was finished speaking, and held out a hospital gown, "Change into this. I'm going to go re-inform my team of the surgery so everything goes as smooth as I planned. I'd offer you an actual room, but we're completely full- strange, isn't it?.. Oh! I nearly forgot," He walked over by Steven, "Take off your shirt."

"W-What?" Steven's eyes nearly bugged out of his head, his mind in the gutter as usual.

"I need to draw on the dotted lines," Dr. Clavering answered innocently, pulling out an unusual pencil, "It's standard procedure- so I know where to cut." And then, remembering all the different medical shows on TV, Steven reluctantly agreed, pulling his shirt up only slightly so the tended wound showed. Immediately grossed out, he jerked his head away, sticking his stuck out. Dr. Clavering had to stop himself from laughing; as the teenager's facial expressions were invaluable. Still, getting to work, the doctor had to place one hand on Steven's side, a smile still plastered on his face, "Stop wiggling, or I'll never get this done." A laugh was even in his voice.

"Your hand's so freaking cold...!" Steven shivered, mixed feeling of anxiety, "What do you do- soak them in ice?"

"I just washed them... There! All done," Dr. Clavering stepped back and covered his mouth, a huge smile sprouting from his work, "Isn't it charming?"

"W-What the hell!? I didn't want Mocky Mouse on my stomach- I worked hard for these abs!" Steven protested, irritated, but the agitated feelings were beginning to replace the tense ones.

"Think of him as good luck," The doctor his smirked, and retreated a few more steps, "I'm going to go brief my team again. Once you're done changing, and I'm done informing, we'll start." Clavering fled the room, shutting the door, to allow himself to laugh before heading to the nearby briefing room. Seriously, Steven stared at the three circles that formed the famous mouse head, that guy is crazy. Though, he did have other concerns.

"I have to... wear... a dress...?" Steven mumbled under breath, the pale green and white checker pattern outfit rather not to his liking. Wait a minute; he paused while taking his clothes off, no underwear?

By the time Dr. Clavering returned with several others, Steven was back to his jittery edgy self, and jumped when the door opened. Within moments, Steven was laying on the table, a mask on his jaw, and a very uncomfortable breeze between his knees. The more time passed, the more tired he felt, and he was even unable to twitch at one point. Despite that, his eyes were still dashing around the room, panic building up as numbing ointment was applied, and an IV needle drew close. His eyes were growing watery, he was terrified. Truly afraid. Finally, at that exact moment, Dr. Clavering noticed the behavior, and leaned down over him to get direct eye contact.

"I promise you, on my career," His voice was calm, and firm, as if he was trying to transfer the energy to Steven, "Nothing will happen. You will wake up, and not even realize it's over. You _will _wake up, alright? This I can promise you, Steven." Something in the entire air changed, a feeling of soothing comfort, and even the rest of the team glanced at Dr. Clavering with smiles on their faces. He was a man of great status, and commanded their whole respect, even if he was younger than the other doctors. Steven's eyes were beginning to shut, and the forming tears rolled down his cheeks pleasantly. Dr. Clavering wiped them away with a finger, "Don't worry."


	6. Sleepy Head

In a white room, in the Beachside Hospital, it was completely, and eerily silent, but yet so peace because of it, Steven dreamed comfortably; the reason why he slept on even when Dr. Clavering entered the room, just checking in on the patient who had undergone surgery a few hours ago. Not to mention, he had fled from one of the nurses who always looked up him such desiring eyes. Once he checked the monitor, and confirmed everything to be normal and steady, he turned to leave but stopped as his eyes fell on the floor. Cast in from the window, with blinds opened, the sunset's oranges and pinks had infiltrated the room, charitably spewing over the uncolored furniture and tile. It was the little things that happened everyday that drew in his attention, and Dr. Clavering helplessly strolled over to the window with a tiny yet pleased smile. When he had first moved to America, he could've gone to almost any hospital with his knowledge, but he just had to choose this one. No matter how long he worked, or how extensive the days seemed, whenever he made rounds of his patients, he always glanced out the window, mesmerized by the ocean washing up on the sandy shore.

Then Steven stirred in his bed, finally coming to after three hours past the surgery's end. Dr. Clavering didn't notice, as Steven was still half out of it and said nothing. He had the same dream as before, the same one that stirred up strange feelings inside. We're so thrilled, the words bounced in his mind again. Regaining himself though, awake in the room, his chest seized up in pain while he gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, "Why does she hate me so much...?" At that moment, Dr. Clavering leaped, and swiftly about-faced; his heart skipped a beat. "R-Really? What the hell? What d-did I do...?" His voice grew unsteady with more thought, and more recollection of her ugly words cast at his so many times before. He couldn't even remember the last time she told him he loved her. What if he had died during the operation? What if he left the world to let her suffer alone? Would his father come back and comfort her? Would everything go back to the way it was? BEFORE he was born? Would he be able to see... his grandfather...? When a hand touched his shoulder, he flinched upon seeing the doctor, and immediately hardened all feelings, stopping the urge to cry. He put on the usual face and scowled, "You're quite the eavesdropper, doc."

"..." Doctor Clavering watched him quietly, saddened by how quickly someone his age could raise their guard. He flashed a disappointed smile, "I know. It's none of my business, correct?"

"... What are you even doing here? I know you make rounds but..."

"Look," Clavering tipped his head in the direction of the window, and sat on the edge of the bed, "It's fascinating, isn't it? The way the sun rises and sets every day. I feel it must take so much work. I'm always wondering how it does it. How does the sun shine so magnificently during the day, every day? If only I had so much determination... If I did, my sleep deficiency wouldn't be so bothersome!" Getting a rather blank look from Steven, Dr. Clavering stopped himself, and removed himself from the bed gently, "I'm sorry, I suppose that was rather wordy... A... Anyway," he stood a few feet away, embarrassed, "I believe I need to update your familiarity of your surgery, and the after-care. Starting off, it was complete success. Your catheter is out, and your lung has recuperated extremely well. In a few weeks, you should be completely healed. "

However, in the meantime, you must tend to the wound, and be very careful. I recommend wearing loose clothing that doesn't rub against it too much. In order to prevent infection, please wait at least twenty-four hours before you wash it. Also, no rubbing or scratching at it- no matter how much it itches. Every day, you must check on it, to make sure nothing is coming undone. If a strange amount of blood is seeping through, that's bad. If you experience a growing amount of strange yellow or green discharge, that's bad. If it grows red or toughens, that's bad. If you experience fever, reddish swelling near the incision, a curious odor, or the incision grows or shrinks, that's also bad."

In order to clean the incision, carefully remove the gauze. wash gently only with soap and water- never hard, and never too much water. A small towel works best for dabbing. Don't use any sort of Alchohol wipe. Finally, dry softly before applying the clean gauze." Doctor Clavering finished, his eyes drawn to the setting sun again.

"..." Steven stared at him just as before, his face growing long before he spoke, "Do I seriously have to memorize all that?"

"For today, just don't mess with it. Or..." He smiled, "in other words, don't wash off Mocky Mouse."

"Wha...? WHAT!?!" Steven's jaw dropped, and he lifted his shirt to see the drawn on ears just exposed behind the fresh gauze. What the heck, he smacked his forehead, it's still here.

"I guess you can be released, today, honestly. The surgery wasn't particularly a rough one, so the stress on the body was fairly small. Though, you need someone to pick you up, alright? I don't want you walking around too much just yet. In fact, if you..." He stopped, would it be rude to say? He decided to go with it anyway, "If you're ever feeling stressed somewhere, I want you to leave and go rest somewhere else, ok? Stress itself is a major concern in the medical field. It's the reason most heart attacks occur on _Mondays_. You only have one body, so you need to take extra good care of it, Steven... Do you need me to call anyone for you?"

"Um..." Steven crossed his hands, "I guess a friend of mine. His name's Rick and... His number is OOO-XXX-OOOO. I'm pretty sure he can drop me off. Tell him if he does, I'll forgive him."

"Very well... Oh, and one last thing. Oozing is normal." Dr. Clavering dipped his head, and exited the room to find a quieter place to call. Steven sat on the bed motionlessly, but then stole a glimpse at the sun, now diving into the ocean horizon... Determination, huh?

A few days later, he was back home, resting in his room by playing on his ancient gamelad, a videogame system that was just about as obsolete as his incision's gauze was old, considering the gauze was supposed to be changed twice a day, five days ago. Steven procrastinated though, as every time he lifted his shirt, his head spinned at the thought that "oozing was normal." As he did many times before, though, Steven lifted his shirt, and examined the incision. Gauze turning brown with dried blood and "oozing," he shut off his game. I imagine, he bit his lip as he thought, it's never even supposed to get like this. Taking on end up the tape, he slooowwwwly began pulling it off... And slapped it shut back on!

"Sick! It's literally a gash in my stomach!" He ruffled his hair, "I ain't doing that!... Ohhhh maaaan... Sick... This is like the time I left that hot dog under my bed... But what if it gets infected...? I don't think I can have Rick do it, either; he's probably wasted from Lyn's party... I'm definitely not getting mom to do it! Ummm..." Pacing around the room, light suddenly beamed at his eyes, and he had to shield them with a hand. Inside his head, a light bulb was also going off.

"I'm a chicken shit..." He mumbled, walking up a set of small concrete steps. He might not even be home, he reminded himself while following the pathway up to the door. Hand trembling, he forced his finger against the door bell, and waited silently for any sign of life. Five seconds later, there was almost a wave of relief that no one responded, but it all suddenly shattered when the door opened.

"Hel- Oh, Steven, good afternoon," Doctor Clavering answered the door in a dress shirt, and jeans, "Can I help you?" His voice was rather low, and his eyes zoning in and out. Steven just then noticed the bags forming under the doctor's eyes, and could piece it all together easily. Lack. Of. Sleep.

"W-Well, if it isn't a good time, I can just do it myself so..." Steven veered away, and began down the path once more.

"N-No! It's fine!" Dr. Clavering reached after him, stopping him in his tracks, "I'm just hanging around as usual, come on inside." So, in a matter of minutes, Steven found himself once again on the dark brown couch, face to face with Doctor Clavering who sat in an armchair nearby. "I'd offer you something, but I haven't gone grocery shopping in a bit, and the pantry is a little vague... But... Moving on, how are you? Have you been resting like I requested? Eating properly?" Despite the man being extremely tired, he seemed almost completely alert, and was still listening keenly, "How does your incision look?"

"Yeah, I've been staying in my room, playing videogames," Steven shrugged, "Mom has been working the early shift so I don't see her until night. I've pretty much stuck to cereal, and sandwiches. I guess that's good, since I usually eat snacks and junk food as meals... As for... um... well... You see, I HAVE been trying... Um..." He couldn't just flat out say it. Minutes later, after a chorus of hesitation, Steven smiled sheepishly, "Mocky Mouse is still there...?" Instantly, Clavering's mouth dropped an inch, and Steven's face flustered a bright rosy red.

"Mocky... Mouse... is... _still_ there...?" Doctor Clavering asked again, wanting to confirm it, not really believing Steven at first. When Steven nodded in confirmation, though, he rubbed his neck, let out a sigh, but a smile formed as his lips curved. "I'm presuming you came here because you want me to change it out, am I correct?"

"Ummm... Wellll... Uh... Heh, heh... Yeah," Steven shrugged, and the doctor began chuckling quietly, but loud enough to be heard, "Hey! It's _gross_! I don't like the thought of a HOLE in my side! And when you pull the bandage it feels funny..."

"..." Dr. Clavering shook his head in dismay, with the smile still on his face, "Alright. Let me go get some gauze, I should have some in the restroom..." In a short time, he returned, and kneeled down in front of Steven, needed materials in hand. Quite happy to get out of doing it, Steven lifted his shirt with no uncertainty, but hurriedly jerked his head away, focusing on anything but the bloody mess. Fast, but silent, Dr. Clavering got to work on the short task, but his eyes were growing heavier every moment. He was so quiet, Steven didn't notice he was falling asleep. Only when he felt pressure on his legs did he turn and discover the snoozing doctor on his lap.

"W-What the...?" Steven's face exploded in shades of red, "U-Um, doc, you're, um, resting your head on my lap, just to let you know... Doc...?" Brushing away a lock of hair, he felt a variety of feelings building up in his body, and he blinked twice, making sure that the air around the doctor wasn't sparkling as his eyes were leading him to believe. Awkward, Steven said nothing aloud, but coughed uncomfortably. Once regaining control of his hand, he nudged the doctor's shoulder again and again and again until, finally, he raised his head, half-asleep. At that point, Steven's heart was racing, and his eyes were wide open. Suddenly, the doctor's gems also burst, and he nearly flew off of the teenager.

"I am _so_ sorry!" He gawked, holding his hands up in a "hands off" sort of motion."I was just- I mean- I was- I'm sorry..." He dipped his head, extremely mortified, "I've worked three days straight, and it's taking its toll. I am _extremely_ sorry if I have made you feel uncomfortable."

"I-It's ok," Steven waved it off, the explosions of apologies were rather entertaining, and his face was already returned to its original color. "And my gauze is nice and clean, so no worries... Um... I'm going to go now... but..." He paused after opening the door, "Can I come back and talk, every now and then?" What am I saying, he questioned himself.

"S-Sure," Dr. Clavering rubbed his eyes, his cheeks still red as ever, "I promise I won't fall asleep anymore." Nervously laughing it off, he shut the door after him, and immediately collapsed on the couch- wanting to catch up on his sleep as soon as possible so anything like that didn't happen again. Outside, Steven stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at the ground- his hearts was still beating fast after seeing Dr. Clavering's sleeping face. What was the word? Ah. Cute... NOT! Steven scratched his head, wondering if he could destroy the memory so he'd stop turning so red. Following that, he rushed from the house, new gauze on his stomach, and another memory that belonged in a deep dark not-telling-anyone part of his mind. After all, why would he tell his buddies he was turned on by another guy?


	7. Birthday Gone Wild

"What a _great_ birthday present... This just.." sighed Steven, entering his house, closing the door behind him rather roughly. He was turned down again; another resume, another failure; it was the repetitive pattern that had been going on for six months now, ever since he was fully healed. Finally twenty-one, He thought while making his resume into a paper airplane, and I still can't get a job worth nothing. As time passed by, and he still had no success, Steven was beginning to grow somewhat depressed, even falling to such thoughts that he was a complete waste of life, with no purpose. After all, if he was even rejected by Burger-Beggar, he knew hope was fluttering out the window, with a laugh on its misleading wings.

Nothing was ever going right anymore. He missed the days of high school because even if he skipped half the time, it was still something to do- something to keep him away from home. The nights grew worse, his mom becoming even more uptight as the budget tensed, and with no signs of recovery anytime soon. The landlord already warned them twice about the rising noise, as the neighbors were complaining. If they can hear, Steven scowled quietly, why don't they just slam a broom against the roof? It always worked for his mother, anyway.

Soaking in his self-pity, he slumped on the couch, and tried to imagine happier days; the days spent with his grandfather at the beach were some of the fondest. _Heck_, at that point, he'd be overwhelmed by a warm fuzzy joy if his grandpa was comforting him over being stung by a harmless jellyfish or something so pathetic. He lifted the remote to the cheap television set and growled when he turned it on, for it instantly went to an all black and gray zigzag screen. Broken. Lying to loaf, he suddenly rocketed up, his side rubbing against something fairly sharp.

"What the hell is a knife...!?" Steven snarled, but stopped when he realized it was from his dinner the day before. Picking up the knife, he gazed at it- into the silver reflection that showed his thin face, and cloudy chestnut eyes. It doesn't have to be this way; the thoughts slithered in his mind, a menacing voice he did not recognize as his own. He could end it all. Yes- then his mother would be sorry! She'd cry so hard and feel so terrible- a horrible woman lacking a nurturer's touch. Maybe even his father would attend his funeral, maybe. Then, they'd be together again, and he'd comfort his mother like he did a long time ago, before he grew fed up and left. The shimmering steak knife slowly drew close to his wrist. End it all. End it. End it. End i- 'You're a good kid- don't let anyone tell you otherwise.'

_KERFUNK! _The knife bashed into the wall, and fell to the floor with a few light clangs. Steven's eyes were wide, and he began shaking intensely. What had he almost done...!? He didn't want to die! No, he wanted so much more- to prove everyone who ever doubted him wrong! He wanted to show his mother than man he could be! He wanted to...! He wanted to become the man he saw in his own dream, the one he had not had in quite some time. His other hand grabbed his wrist where the blade had lightly danced across, and he closed his eyes. 'A dream is a wish your heart makes. You just have to keep working on it.' There was no way in hell he would let his small fire burn out. He had a purpose... He had just forgotten it for awhile.

"What ever happened to that guy...?" He rubbed his head, remembering the doctor who had tended to him, "And how come his words are still sticking with me..." Surprisingly, at that moment, the phone rang, and nearly sent Steven back to the hospital with a heart attack. Sprinting over to the shaking phone like a madman, he yanked it off the hook with a strong grip and greeted, "Hello! Steven here, what can I do for ya?"

"... Um... Wow," laughed a voice on the other end, "I've never heard you so enthusiastic before! I mean, it's Rick, hey Steven!"

"Ah, Rick, what's up?" Steven pulled up a stool, the phone miserably wired to the receiver. "If you're calling to say 'hi,' please don't waste the minutes. Mom'll be in a rage, if ya do."

"H-Hey, don't push me away that fast! I am calling for a VERY important reason!" playfully pleaded Rick, the sound of loud music booming in the background. "If you're not busy, you should come see this party at Lisa's house!!! It's seriously hot down here, you've _gotta_ come! Since you're all better, now, it'll be fun, right?"

"What...? Rick..." Steven frowned, and began weaving a colorful lie, "I'm not... too sure... I mean... I have plans today, I guess. I've gotta apply some resumes and stuff." Ok, at least it wasn't a complete lie!

"Steve- my man! FORGET the responsibilities! Have some fun in your life, you can always do that tomorrow, can't you? I can drive you around, even, tomorrow... Dude! It's YOUR birthday! You're twenty-one!!! CELEBRATE!"

"Ah..." Steven fell quiet, quite pleased that his birthday was remembered. Glancing at the clock, and considering his mother would be home in about thirty minutes, he grinned, "Alright. Alright. You got me. But I'm not bringing anything, got it? I'm dirt poor!"

"Bring your rhythm, and it'll all be good! Ok, I've GOTTA go, there's that one lovely lady from high school, and I've gotta try my luck. See ya in a bit!"

"Bye," Steven put the phone back. He was really twenty-one, wasn't he? Nearly three years out of high school... and nothing... As he rushed into his room to change into better clothes, he felt a guilty feeling forming in his gut. Why do I feel like I'm betraying someone...? He pondered, but then slipped on a shirt and hat, masking the feeling.

Everything that happened when he arrived at the party began to blur with the booming music and crazy lights. The whole house quivering, as if partying itself, sent a vibration through his chest, just like the heavy duty bass playing from the speakers. Soon, he joined Rick and many others, jumping up and down in the house with hands in the air, not a care in the world- not even realizing what horrible consequences would come soon. Before Steven had realized that, he had worked up enough nerve and talked to the one "lovely lady." Of course, that was with the help of several Styrofoam cups of Alcohol. He was beginning to laugh over nothing, and trip over nothing, but he paid no attention to it, and went along with the whole thing. He saw so many colors, red and blue, and so many flashes, he was completely wasted when the lights turned out to be police, and the guests of the house scattered like vermin. He sat on the floor, leaned against a wall, and laughed some more. His brain wasn't his to control, anymore. Also, his dear friend Rick was nowhere in sight, again, not even when the police began questioning him sternly.

Jerking up, Steven found himself in a place he did not recognize. Able to look around a little, before his head throbbed painfully and he laid back down, he determined it definitely was prison, home, or Rick's house. Oh lord, he gasped as he thought, what DID I do last night? Shuffling to his feet, he only managed to walk a few feet before slapping against the wall, his head throbbing so horribly. Still, he ignored the pain to the best of his ability and continued, hand on the wall as some sort of support, if not even a guide. In only a few moments, he passed a restroom, another bedroom- one of which lacked a bed- and a pristine clean kitchen that nearly sparkled. As he reached the living room, his heart ended up in his throat, and his eyes became as big as soccer balls.

"..." He made no noises, the one settled on the couch, sleeping away peacefully with an expressionless face. Despite his usual composed professional look, he had a few loose strands of light-colored hair running across his forehead, and he wore the most casual T-shirt with black boxers.

Steven couldn't believe his eyes. Actually, he was wondering if he even wanted to believe in his vision. Perhaps he was hallucinating from the Alcohol, or maybe he had gotten a hold of "something else" during the party. Whatever it was, it was definitely what was causing his eyes to fall upon Doctor Clavering, the same man he hadn't seen for a little more than half a year. It was all probably some really weird dream he was having as a result of inhaling, snorting, or whatever he had done. Still, whatever it had been, it was quite realistically convincing, and Steven slowly approached the resting medic to prove his eyes wrong.

"What the hell...?" Of course, his eyes were right, and so was his sense of touch. His fingers brushed against the doctor's cheek, and he immediately withdrew them, startled out of his skin. His very soul shook when a certain pair of shining green eyes revealed themselves.

"..." Dr. Clavering said nothing, at first, most likely confused for a moment until he regained his own thoughts. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes for a moment and then looked up, "Steven... Good morning."

"Ah... AHHHHHH!!!" The teenager shrieked but instantly stopped when his head began pulsing unpleasantly, again. Unconsciously, his hands leapt to his head, and clamped against his skull tightly as if to minimize the pain. After recovering his heartbeat, Dr. Clavering sighed and watched quietly while Steven shuddered in tenderness. He stood up.

"Why don't you take a seat?" He used a calm, quiet voice much more suited to the time of day than Steven's tone. Obeying wordlessly, Steven looked up at Clavering, a guilt building up inside just by being in his presence. He knew he had done wrong; he saw an expression of dissatisfaction on the young doctor's face.

"I'm..." Steven messed with his hands, moving his fingers around aimlessly while he fidgeted, "I'm sorry I... I used your bed, I think. I'll never let it happen again, I swear."

"Hopefully, there is no need for you to swear," Dr. Clavering sat on the edge of the coffee, preferring to have an eye-to-eye conversation.

"O-Of course," coughed Steven, even feeling embarrassed at that point. He just remembered this was the man he had spewed his personal life to, things he hadn't even told his friends. Back then, he was sure he would've never seen Doctor Clavering again. After all, everyone who had cared even the slightest for him was gone, now. "So..." Forcing words from his throat, he tried to keep an uncomfortable atmosphere from appearing, "May I please ask what happened?" So polite, his mother would've been 'proud.'

"I was jogging, and happened to stumble upon quite the negative energy outside of such a lovely... yet tainted house. It's a real shame that when parents go out of town, they come back to find their dear son or daughter has thrown a party full of illegal activities. Unfortunately, as I near the scene, I see a very familiar face being shoved towards a police car. Guess who?" Doctor Clavering asked sarcastically, his voice much harsher and sharp than before, "Steven, do you realize you drank so much alcohol, you nearly suffered being POISONED?" Steven flinched, and he paused before continuing, letting it sink in, "You were vomiting all over the policeman, over the cars... Just everywhere. And you want to know what else? You were laughing like a complete fool, even when the policeman was questioning you. It took every persuasive word in my dictionary to have them let you go! You know what stupid lie I told them? I said you were suffering from an illness called Dementia, and that you were running all over the place not having a clue. Steven, I KNOW those policeman- they protect this very neighborhood. I felt very unhappy about lying to them."

"I'm..." Steven pressed his hands onto his eyes, ashamed with a burning sensation in his cheeks, and depressed with his tear ducts swelling heavily. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Please don't be angry... at me... Don't yell...!"

"..." The stoic stern look only remained so much longer before it gave way to the usual soft kind one, eyes gentle and caring. Dr. Clavering was never good at scolding; he absolutely hated it, even when he had to lecture medical students for their mistakes. Taking a seat on the couch, he wrapped his arms around Steven, wondering just how he could soothe the poor boy's mind, even if it was just until he departed. "I'm angry because I know that you're worth so much more compared to what those cops saw you were. If I can see so much in you, why can't you, yourself? I told you this before. You're a good kid. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"..." Steven suddenly stopped crying, the phrase worked strange magic on him. It was working so well at that moment like it did the day before- when he nearly ended his life, without thinking. A strong confidence started to gather in his heart, and he scowled with a determined face. "I want to be better."

"...?" Dr. Clavering let go and leaned back enough to see the resolute expression forming on the teenager's strength.

"Doc, I want to be better," He declared with a fire in his voice, "I want to get a degree, and a good job. I want to prove everyone who ever doubted me wrong! I want to show my mom who I really am!" He stood up, fists forming with the seemingly unlimited energy, "I want to vow to myself to do better! No... I VOW to do better! I WILL do better! Just because none of my resumes have been accepted doesn't mean I won't get a job, right? Just because I haven't started college yet doesn't mean I'm not going to, right!?! I'm going to-"

"Be Steven Jacobs," smiled Dr. Clavering, also rising to his feet. A pleasant expression on his face, he held out his hand, "May I be the witness to this vow?"

"..." Steven looked at his hand for a moment, but then exploded with a grin, grabbing the hand firmly, "Yeah! Can you be my guardian? If I stray from this path I've picked... Can you fix me back on the right one, doc? Can you teach me everything you can?"

"Be careful what you ask of me..." Doctor Clavering smirked, and a rather peculiar light flickered behind the green coat of his eyes, "I will be quick to enforce your word on you, from here on out. Are you sure?"

"Because of a dream I had not long ago..." Steven quietly explained, "I want to be a man my parents can be proud of. I want to be... the man my grandfather loved. I want to be the man... I want to be the guy you say you see in me so much!" Suddenly, from the growing volume, his head pounded, and Steven grew quiet. There was a familiar yet enigmatic chuckle that came from in front of him.

"As for the 'don'ts'," Dr. Clavering said, making Steven sit back down with a soft nudge, "No drinking. No smoking. No drugs. No girlfriends. No..." And he went on for five minutes, with banning. Out of nowhere, though, he sat down on the couch beside Steven and crossed his legs properly, "Follow those rules, and I can allow you to stay here, while I help you, if you want.... For starters, why don't we go buy you glasses, since you've been ignoring that issue. Also, a cell phone is completely necessary, if you don't have one. Perhaps, once we finish those, we could go see what college courses are being offered in the fall, as it's just around the corner. By the way, happy birthday, Steven."

"... W-What...?" blinked Steven, having trouble taking in all in "How did you...?"

"Isn't background info on a patient a miracle?" Dr. Clavering held a hand over his mouth when he smiled, and he began to laugh, "Oh yes, I was wondering... At age six... Did you honestly get into a toy car and wheel down a set of stairs, breaking both of your arms? You must have been crying so 'cutely.'"

"W-What the hell!?! I only broke an arm!!! ... I-I mean- I never did that!" How was the atmosphere so playful and fun? Not a single strange moment of silence where no one could say anything... What made Dr. Clavering so special...?


	8. The Battle

"You really don't have to do this..." It was about the third time Doctor Clavering said it, but Steven paid no attention to his modesty. After all, only a week ago, he thought that everything he saw was supposed to look how it seemed. Suddenly, with the purchase of new glasses, his eyes could perceive the slightest detail on leaves- even the stomata found on the underside! (Ah, his old biology teacher would be so proud.)

"Even if I look like a complete dork," Steven declared jubilantly, walking along the white bustling halls with a smile, "I'm glad I can see! I always thought that the world was supposed to be fuzzy- Wow! I can actually read that sign from here!.. And, anyway, the more time I spend away from home, the better, I think." Speaking of which, Steven had politely declined the doctor's invitation. Basically, he felt they had just met, and... and... I'm not sure about moving in with this guy, so fast, Steven thought without an expression even though his stomach was full of a strange feeling. Without warning, his eyes closed and his head dipped while his mouth let out a shuddering sneeze, "Choo!"

"So that is what a whale blowing air looks like," Dr. Clavering barely managed to dodge the spray, or the other three sneezes that followed, but, continued after a moment, "That's quite the rhythm you had going there, young man."

"Uhhh..." Steven shook his head, "Ugh. I hate this time of the year. There's nothing worse than the pollen in the air- it drives my allergies insane. My grandpa also had this problem; he loved me so much he gave me his horrible allergy genes!"

"Do you need something for it?" questioned Dr. Clavering politely, stopping in his tracks. Then, beginning to fumble through his white coat, he pulled out a silver key, "This is the key to my house. I forgot to put it in the locker with the rest of my things but... If you want, you can let yourself in to my house- I have some claraton in my kitchen cabinets, I believe."

"That's ok!!! Really, it passes in just a few days anyway," Steven rapidly declined, what was with this guy? He would openly give someone his keys to his house? He was either naïve, or too trusting, or... Steven gazed at him silently; the doctor's gem eyes didn't flicker once with uncertainty, "I think you shouldn't trust people so fast. There are always people in this world ready to stab you in the back. Really... I mean..."

"Yes, I know," He put on an angelic smile, one so pure and warm, "But I feel I can trust you, Steven. After all, I'm an adult, and I'm quite capable of deciding myself. Please don't be humble, and go- your allergies may pass quickly, but it's the quality of the time you have it, not the quantity." With that, he placed the small key in the youth's hands, not a bit of doubt in his mind. When Steven was about to protest once more, he finished the conversation, "That's a doctor's order."

"That's a pretty strict face you've got there, Doctor C!" a sudden voice caused Steven to jump, and for him to wonder if a look of irritation just appeared on the usually gentle, kind doctor's face. On his right, Steven saw a tall woman approaching, her red hair long, but tied back in a neat bun suitable for the working environment. Garbed in the standard white coat, Steven was sure she was also a doctor. A playful smirk on her lips, she folded her arms, "Well, what do I have here? Mingling with a patient of yours? What's his name? He's so cute! How come you always get such lovely guys, Gerry?"

"T-That's..." Steven blushed, overwhelmed by the woman's aura. Wait, Gerry? His head jerked towards Dr. Clavering with curiosity; did she just call _him_ Gerry?

"Hello there, Helen," the doctor's face lost its usual friendly charm, and was replaced by a more indifferent one, Doctor Clavering's last attempt to not seem rude. His usual clipboard at his side, he introduced with much more enthusiasm, "This is my former patient, Steven Jacobs."

"Really? The one treated for pneumothorax? Ah, so he's the infamous Steven with the easy access body. Very nice," Helen chuckled while Steven changed so red his face could've have been mistaken for a blood transplant. Still, the embarrassment didn't last long as she changed her focus quickly, "Anyway, I was wondering, Gerry, if you'd like to take me out for dinner on Friday! I saw the work schedule for this month and was amazed by the days we have off together."

"Ah, Friday, you said?" Dr. Clavering put on his best act, "I'm not so sure, yet. It's only Monday, and so much can happen in a few days. Could you ask me again, on Wednesday or Thursday? I don't wish to establish a rendezvous that I can't make. Would you mind telling me again, later?"

"Not at all," Helen beamed, "I'll catch up with you on Wednesday, then. I still need to make a few more rounds." Then, oblivious as ever, she departed with a cheerful nature that left no sign of being let down, leaving the two to themselves, once again.

"Now... what was that about?" Steven turned to the doctor, "She was gorgeous, and you turned her down? She was obviously flirting with you."

"... I know..." Dr. Clavering sighed before straightening his stature, forcing the bad vibes from himself, "But I also don't want to make a date with someone who's currently interested in every other male co-worker."

"Huh?"

"What I mean to say is..." Dr. Clavering crossed his arms, "I caught her in the storage room with an intern, the other day. Luckily, for me, they didn't notice, and I am quite close to forgetting the image burned into my eyes." He rubbed his forehead, a sort of tired laugh in his voice. Then, before Steven replied, Dr. Clavering shook his head and took a step away, "In any case, I also have rounds to finish. When you're done with that key, just tuck it under the placemat by my front door. With that, I take my leave. Good afternoon, Steven," and he strolled away quietly.

Sounds like something off of Blue's Anatomy, Steven watched him go as he dropped the key into his pants pocket. Then, with no business left at the seaside hospital, he passed through the front entrance in a matter of seconds, and soon found himself at a familiar bus stop, waiting for the only means of transportation he knew, at the moment.

It was about two in the afternoon when he boarded the bus, and, thirty minutes later, he stepped off into the familiar neighborhood, his sense of navigation showing its brilliance like always. He scratched his throat when he passed a white fence, the same one he had cried his eyes out in the pouring rain. Using his memory to the best of his ability, he quickly came across a pair of recognizable steps, and wandered up them to see the same heart-warming house. He had to admit that, even though it felt weird fussing with the door's lock, it was an interesting feeling to open the door to a house. He kind of... liked it...? So, as if Dr. Clavering was there himself, ushering him in like usual, Steven gingerly stepped inside, and was instantly engulfed by a thick coat of cold air.

"Hoh...!" Steven sounded off, shivering once or twice while he adjusted to the air, and shut the door behind him softly. Inside, the house was clean and kept-up carefully, but he could really tell thanks to his new glasses. "How does he keep his place so clean?" Steven asked aloud while venturing further, "Or is he not home enough for the place to get dirty?" Despite his previous feelings, he was beginning to feel a little more relaxed, and headed towards the kitchen with a more casual gait. Coming upon it, and after comparing it's purity to that of the hospital itself, Steven began searching the cupboards for any sign of the allergy medicine Dr. Clavering spoke of.

"Nope, not here," He said, closing one after the other, "Oh, man, everything is so arranged. I wonder what mom would think if I did this with our house... I don't need plates... I guess I can use a cup, huh?" Instead of taking one of the crystal glasses he saw earlier, he plucked a paper party cup and finally stumbled upon the claraton shortly after. Filling his cup with water, he popped them into his mouth without any misgivings... Until he thought about it afterwards. "Wait a minute; I just took medicine from a stranger's home... not even knowing if these are really..." Exiting the kitchen, he began slowly towards the door, "Seriously, that was a very bad move... Oh well! I'll be more careful la-"

_Thump!_ His suddenly outstretched arms whacked into something, and, moments later, there was a sweet aroma filling the air while a greenish liquid seeped across the carpet flooring. Steven's heart stopped. Oh. My. God. OH MY WHGSFBJHEWBNFKBJEFBH!?! His brain malfunctioned, he was completely freaking out. Rushing to pick up a nearly empty glass, he set it on a nearby table, and began running in circles around the spot, "Holy MOSES! WHAT THE EOHWOJNJHBSKCHBILBEF!!! DID I SERIOUSLY JUST..." He paused for a second, and let his eyes wander to the ground again. Maybe, it was some illusion. Maybe, he was tired. Maybe... "OH MY GEEZUS!!!!"

When at least ten minutes passed, and his energy was running low, he finally regained himself, and stared at the spot with a rapid beating heart. What could he do? What was he supposed to do? WHY did he have to knock over a stupid incense glass!?! He held his hands on his temples, beginning to concentrate. Wait. He could fix it. What did he first need...? Ah! Towel! He sighed in relief at the eureka moment, and then rushed around the house, checking any closets with open access. When, at last, he found a whole stack of towels in the bathroom, he returned to the mess that was drying fast- he had wasted too much time fretting. Sprouting a determined look, however, he gave the stare some sort of death glare. Stain versus Steven.

"Bring it." And he dropped to his knees, scrubbing as hard and fast as he could. He had cleaned up many of his own messes at home, in fear of his mother's good eye, and he wasn't about to let one in a stranger's home beat him. So, he cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned, and... cleaned... and... The more time passed, the more strangely his eyes grew heavier, wanting to give in. It had only been about half an hour since he took the medication but... He tried his best to keep his eyes focused- he only had to finish cleaning it up, and then he'd ride the bus home. It was such a simple schedule. Still, even though his mind didn't give up, his body sure had.

That evening, coming home after a long day of work, Doctor Clavering met quite a surprise when he found his door unlocked, and even a greater shocker when he entered his house, and switch on the light, brief case in one hand, and a coat folded the over arm. On the floor, completely knocked out, Steven rested awkwardly, one arm outstretched with a towel in hand, just on a section of carpet that looked slightly darker than the rest.

"He says I worry too little..." Doctor Clavering whispered with a smile, setting his stuff down before bending down beside the boy and patting his head softly, "But I think he worries too much."


	9. Friend No More

*NOTE: Last chapter, "transplant" was supposed to be "transfusion." Not sure it matters, but, oh well.

Friend. A person attached to another by feelings. A person who gives assistance. A supporter. A person who is on good terms with another. By dictionary, and by most standards, a friend was someone who was there whenever you needed them. Such a title could only truly be passed on to a few, honestly, and that's why Steven had always had trouble deciding who should be his friend, and who shouldn't. Somehow, he had created a great tremor between him and other children, when he was young. Still, what constantly made him wonder, while lying awake in his bed, was how the heck Rick became his friend.

When Steven was about five, just starting school, he wasn't as a fiery child with a caustic tongue. In fact, he was a rather quiet boy, one who kept to himself, watching others interact in fascination. When he was young, he had always wondered when he'd make a friend, like all the other children. One day, though, he learned that he couldn't just make friends, he had to earn them.

A few weeks into Kindergarten, just beginning to count his numbers and remember the alphabet song, Steven was playing in the sandbox when, suddenly, a boy, who had been playing with others in the sandbox, threw sand in his eyes. Naturally, Steven had grown red in the face with tears, and began wailing like a newborn. This only egged the unknown boy further.

"Baby!" The boy barked, his tone rising in excitement. "Steven's a baby!" With his taunts, he threw even more sand, and Steven cried even more. Out of nowhere, though, a thick handful of dirt was tossed at the boy, digging its way into his eyes with its inertia. The boy didn't cry, fighting back tears, and he veered to the left, towards the attacker.

He had light blonde hair, full of sunlight, just like his smile, and brown eyes the color of the dirt that he had just thrown. A good inch shorter than all the other kids, he was known as 'Rick the mouse' and constantly teased for his small stature.

Steven had watched him before, getting teased, but, not once, had Rick given into the nasty comments. Instead, he always grew intensely ruthless, and began balling fists furiously. Of course, just as shown when he was tackled by the anonymous boy, Rick never won against them once. Still, only when the teacher came rushing over did the two separate, Rick's determination outweighing his pain and he clenched his teeth to prove it.

"He started it!" Rick growled as the teacher's brow furrowed immensely. Despite the last statement, Steven admired him from that point on, and the two became friends. Steven finally found someone to talk to, through the long tedious hours of a school day, and Rick finally found someone shorter than him, who, through the like properties, grew to like as an ally.

But times had changed.

"Rick, I want to talk to you," Steven called the friend over the phone, "Can you meet me at the diner? I'll treat." His tone, somewhat bothered, alerted Rick, who took a moment to answer.

"Sure," He accepted, slowly, "I'll be right there."

The night was unseasonably cold, and Steven didn't even bother to wait in the parking lot like he always did. Taking a seat in the booth, under the neon lights that flashed mercilessly, he leaned back and looked around, eyes taking in the setting where so many memories resided. Behind the counter, the owner of the diner, Mary-ann eyeballed him cautiously, making sure to look away when he glanced at her.

Thirty minutes later, and not even looking sorry for making Steven wait, Rick waltzed into the diner casually, his hands stuffed in his wrinkled clothes, messy with stains. His eyes had lost their shine they once had, and were now dull as a coffee-dyed egg, while his blonde hair, dyed far too many times, was a weird greenish-blonde, just as unkempt as his clothes.

"Yo, Stevey, boy!" Rick hollered obnoxiously, sliding into the booth, the smell of alcohol on his breath. "Whatcha need from me? I'm here, just like you asked."

"..." Steven gave him a long hard stare that discomfited him, before speaking, "Rick, I've decided on what I want to do with my life."

"Ha, girls, money, and drugs, ri-"

"NO. Rick," Steven sternly cut him off, losing his patience. "You've helped me realize it, as well. I DON'T want to be like you. I WANT to get my life on track. I want to go to school, and graduate from college. I don't want to be a drug-addict like you! And don't even deny it, you smell of smoke and beer, Rick!"

"Are you trying to pick a fight with me?" Rick's eyes grew dark and loathsome; the bags under his eyes causing him to look more like a raccoon than a human being. His eyes grew beady, and he placed his hands on the table, "Suddenly you want to act like a nerd? Nice joke, Steven! You're just like me! You were completely wasted at that par-"

"Don't even get me started on that!!!" Steven stood up. "I'm nothing like you! I wouldn't abandon my friend! You've done it TWICE! Don't even try to compare yourself to me! You used to seem so big, in my eyes, and look at the old shriveled thing you've become! I want so much more for my life- why don't you? Don't you want to see what you could be? Don't you ever dream of living in a big house, with a family?"

"Pansy!" Rick rocked from the seat, rushing to his feet only to freeze. In the last few years, while Rick had stopping growing, Steven had continued, was now well an inch over his head. His face grew cross, and horrible words escaped his mouth in slurs. "I made you into what you are! Otherwise, you'd still be that stupid kid getting sand tossed in his eyes!"

"With how wasted you are, I can't believe you can remember!" Steven snarled, baring his teeth like a wolf defending its family, "Are you trying to say I'm Steven Jacobs because YOU made me Steven Jacobs? Well, I've got big news for you, BUDDY! I was raised by my mom, and my dad! You've only influenced me! Then again, can I even call it that? Compared to my parents and grandfather, you're nothing! Compared to..." A face flickered in Steven's mind, a newer one, but one that was most noteworthy, "Compared to a person I met not so long ago, you're nothing! That's pathetic! You're just some short kid who always lost, and who has always been an idio-"

_BAM! _Rick's fist connected with Steven's jaw, causing his head to jerk unnaturally, and a sick cracking noise shivered in the air from the bones absorbing the impact. Steven's body shuddered horribly, just as Mary-ann cried out, and he had to force all willpower in his fists to stop them from firing up Rick rapidly.

"You jerk!" Rick cried out. "Is this all our friendship meant!?!"

"I don't want to be friends anymore," Steven whispered, tracing the point of impact with his fingers, which were quivering. "I'm sorry, Rick. You've changed."

"You...!" Rick was about to hit him again when Mary-ann's husband came out, a large muscular man with quite the harsh gaze. "Whatever! Who needs you! I'll... I'll go find someone better! Don't expect the boys at the basketball courts to smile at you! Don't expect me to come pick you up anymore...!" He waited a good moment, expecting Steven to quickly change his mind. However, Steven was stone-faced, eyes dark with the gravity of the situation. Defeated, and feeling a blow to the gut, Rick jolted away, stuffing one hand into his pocket while the other, the one that had performed to the sealing deed, was left hanging, red with pressure.

Steven held a hand on his jaw, but kept his eyes on the diner door for a good few minutes. He had cut it off. He had severed the final obstruction- the final obstacle that kept him from hopping along the path of stepping stones. Inside, he was conflicted, though, as memories of the sandbox were deeply engraved in his heart, and he kept wondering if that Rick was really in there. Finally, he gave up thinking, and let it his grow soft, exposing his delicacy.

"I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused," He politely apologized to Mary-ann and her husband, Frank with a dip of his head. He felt a strong hateful feeling in his gut, but it was strangely dispelled when Mary-ann smiled, gently, reminding him of Doctor Clavering.

"Are you alright?" asked Mary-ann, folding her thick arms.

"Y-Yeah," He flustered involuntarily, temperature burning in his face. "I think I should go now. I don't want to be out too late... Oh! Here's the money for the soda..."

"It's on the house," Frank refused it, his face still amazingly resolute. "If you really want to pay, go home, and sleep. That's your bill."

"Yes sir!" Steven nodded, and rushed towards the door. A warm feeling enveloping his heart, Steven turned back once more. "Thank-you." And he left the neon diner with a red face, not even the cold night was able to destroy the warmth that burned his body.

The next day, Steven was unable to contain his feelings, and smiled like a fool the whole time. Though, feeling a little embarrassed when people looked at him weirdly, he began thinking of a way to at least ease the overwhelming warmth. Catching a bus across town, and walking along the curb, hands out as a balance, he came upon the brown house with a bright smile- one of the brightest in ages.

"Ah, Steven!" Dr. Clavering answered, like he always seemed to, somehow, and smiled. Suddenly, his expression dropped, and he gasped, eyes full of horror, "What happened to your face!?!"

"I got punched!" Steven replied jovially, causing Dr. Clavering's mouth to fall even wider, hanging ajar like a propped door.

"Steven," His expression kept changing with mixed feelings as he led the teen inside, "You're not a masochist, correct? That's a very... unhealthy... fascination..." His voice fell unintentionally, the twenty-eight year old feeling weary of the subject.

"What?" Steven's smiled dropped, just like he wanted to in the first place. "NO WAY! Do you want to know what happened?"

"Well, you've sparked my interest," Dr. Clavering admitted, taking his place in the armchair like he always did, "and I can't pretend I'm not worried."

Thus, in the next ten minutes, Steven said just about everything, starting from the sandbox days, all the way to the present. No matter how long he seemed to talk, Dr. Clavering listened silently, politely, and, sure enough, his eyes were full of wonder, and curiosity. To finish off, Steven talked of Mary-ann and her husband, and why he had come to see Dr. Clavering, that day instead of another. Once he stopped talking, he was, once again, smiling like an idiot.

"..." Doctor Clavering observed the way he twitched happily with his gem eyes, amused. "I'm sincerely happy for you, Steven."

"I'm... glad," Steven rubbed his head, feeling the heat rise in his face yet again. "I don't want to disappoint anyone, anymore. I know things will be a little lonelier, now that Rick's gone, but... It's all for the greater picture, right...?" True feelings rose within the boy, and Clavering saw a glimpse at the young Steven, the one who was always quiet and reserved. Steven was troubled; he had lost his best friend.

"..." Dr. Clavering frowned, his bliss disappearing with Steven's smile. Standing up, he smiled, "I'm always here, or at the hospital, Steven. If you ever want to talk, I'm here for you, just to let you know."

"I do know..." Steven let his hands fall into his lap. "That's why... Can you help me look for a job? If I start making money, I can pay for my own, and save for school. I'm not sure what I want a degree in, but I can start thinking about that when I sigh up, later..." His voice was cracking.

"I vowed I would be your guide, Steven," The doctor smiled softly. "I will help you look for a job, and look for classes around the county colleges. For now, though..." He knelt down, and stared up at Steven's swelling eyes, "Why don't we get a bag of ice for your jaw, and a warm wet rag for your eyes?"

Steven let the tears loose, but, to the best of his ability, fought back the sniffles and whimpers that accompanied them. When Dr. Clavering offered his hand, he took it, and, as he followed, wiped his eyes with the free hand.

He was hit by Rick's right hand, and, now, he was wiping his tears away with his right hand.

Farewell. An expression of good wishes at parting. Leave-taking. Departure. Good-bye said when separating, possibly when leaving on a long, far journey. Farewell. Farewell, friend. Farewell, forever.


End file.
